


Frederick Marries Himself

by CarthagoDelenda



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Background Stahl/Sumia Miriel/Lon'qu and Sully/Virion, F/F, Fluff, Light Drama, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Pre-Emmeryn Assassination Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarthagoDelenda/pseuds/CarthagoDelenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick officiates his own wedding. To Chrom. Fulfilling a request from my sister!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frederick Marries Himself

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is not my usual fare – but I promise you it will be great fare nonetheless. It's pretty silly but I wouldn't call it crack?
> 
> This one goes out to my sister, m-chrobin, who paid me exactly 42 cents to write this fic. I’m glad and honored to bring it to you, and I hope this suffices as a belated Christmas present! 
> 
> Some notes – this takes place just before the assassination attempt on Emmeryn, and I’ve used they/them pronouns for Robin. Also I couldn’t find any info on Ylisse marriage rites or Fire Emblem world marriage rites in general so I made them up. But I'd welcome more info if anyone has any!

Frederick examined his tie for the fourth time, worrying himself again over whether or not it fit with the rest of his suit. It had already taken him twenty minutes to convince himself that there wasn’t any blood on it from the last battle they’d been in, but now he didn’t know whether the color was right, or if the old thing was too faded to see the light of day.

If the tie had any sort of sentimental value then its age might have been a testament to the strength and vitality of the love that it stood for – but alas it was just an old tie. So he took it off, placed it back in its box, and selected his white tie to wear instead. It was beautiful, practical, and it would always look tidy –sure proof that even after battle, he could clean up nicely.

It was not an _unusual_ occurrence for a wedding to follow a fight. He’d seen many a couple-in-arms run directly from their victory to kneel before Chrom and ask for his blessing on their marriage, which would usually be celebrated within the week. First it was Stahl and Sumia, then Sully and Virion, then Miriel and Lon’qu… all in all exactly three more marriages than he’d expected to occur in their travels.

He still didn’t quite understand what it was about battles that made people want to leap into marriage afterward. He’d heard Lady Lissa call it the “suspension-bridge effect”; the moment when the constricting feeling in your chest in the midst of danger was mistaken for love in the proximity of another. But then, as much logical sense as that made, he still didn’t understand it at all. He’d never had _love_ on his mind during a fight. He’d only ever thought of his valor, his duty, and his need to protect his ladies and his lord…

But then, come to think of it, he _could_ call those feelings love if he stretched them far enough. A slight blush crept across his cheeks at the realization – he’d never thought of it that way before.

But other than that he hadn’t felt the slightest flurry of nerves. Every camp wedding he’d officiated had been much the same as the last…even if today, on many levels, things were going to be a bit different.

He stepped back from the dressing room glass, and gave himself a look from tip to toe. His suit was a pristine black, without a speck of lint to be seen; if he did see any he’d remove it as fast as he could. But then, he didn’t expect to find much – he’d never worn this before, and he couldn’t see why he ever would again.

He realized he’d been holding his breath, so he exhaled, and tried a few more breaths just to get himself back on an even kilter. Even then he felt a strange, twisted feeling in his heart and the tips of his fingers. Was it nerves? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t think he’d have to worry about such things, even though he knew it was normal to be nervous. He didn’t think he had, not until this moment, but then, with the moment so close at hand…

“Frederick?”

He froze as he heard the voice at the door, but he couldn’t keep himself for long – not when _he_ was here. “My… Chrom!” he said, turning quickly around. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Frederick could only see the top of his lord’s torso leaning in from the side of the door, but it was enough for him to see the expression of delight on his face for at least a few seconds. But then it faded, and the corners of Chrom’s face drew tight with concern. “Is something wrong, Frederick?” he said.

“Oh – no, not at all.” Frederick dropped into a half-bow, acting in the spirit of a well worn habit before he remembered himself and straightened again. “I was about to say “My Lord,” but remembering your edict, I caught myself at the last second.”

“My _edict_?” Chrom raised an eyebrow as he stepped into the doorway. “Frederick, it wasn’t an edict. I’ve already told you, you don’t have to keep thinking of me like that.”

Frederick would have nodded, but as he looked at Chrom, taking him in from head to toe, he found his words were the last thing he had to worry about. “My lord,” he said carefully, “Why have you torn the sleeve off your dress garment?”

“Huh?” Chrom looked baffled at the change of subject, but only for a second before he looked down at his bare left arm. “Oh - you mean this?” He folded his arms, emphasizing the definition of his muscles, as well as the brand on his shoulder. “I don’t need it.”

“Chrom, the convoy from Ylisse traveled for over a week to deliver this to you –”

“ _I don’t need it_ ,” Chrom emphasized.

 _And he just told me he didn’t want me thinking of him like that,_ Frederick thought, but he was far from feeling any kind of contempt. If anything, it was an assurance that all was well. “If it is what my lord wishes,” he said, as his eyes strayed toward the dressing-table and the scissors he knew were in its top drawer. “But at least let me trim the frayed ends –”

“If you have to. Which I know you do. And it’s Chrom. _Chrom_ ,” he said, clearly enunciating his own name. “We went over this like a minute ago.”

“We did. I’m aware.” Frederick was only half-listening to Chrom as he looked for the scissors, and once he found him his entire focus was on the threads that swayed dangerously from the edge of his ripped seam. Chrom sat without being asked as Frederick approached him, and he knelt over the remains of the offending sleeve, pulling it off Chrom’s skin as he began his work.

“I apologize… _Chrom_ ,” he said, very deliberately. “I must have thrown you off track when you came in.”

“Not really, no.” Chrom’s voice was clear and relaxed, but something in his bearing felt a bit tense. “I was just coming in to see how you were doing.”

“You were looking after me, then?”

“You could say that.”

“But I should be the one looking after you,” Frederick said quickly, snipping several threads at once. “And not the other way round.”

“I’ve never had to worry about a ripped seam a day in my life, and I have you to thank for that,” Chrom said. “But… more than that, you seem a little, well, frayed. Is everything okay?”

For just a second Frederick’s hand slipped, and he just narrowly missed cutting into Chrom’s flesh. He stiffened at the thought, and gently pulled the scissors back to his side. “I…”

“You…?”

“Chrom, I appreciate the honor and the respect that you’ve bestowed on me as the officiator of all weddings in the camp.” Frederick had brought that all out more forcefully than he’d anticipated, and he had to take a breath before he could continue. “But I can only think of it as – as _silly_ that you should think it proper for that duty to extend to my _own_ wedding.”

Chrom stared up at Frederick. “Is that all?” he said.

“There are a dozen other people who could take my place, just this once,” Frederick continued, as though Chrom had not spoken. “Even a clergyman from the local village would do in a pinch, and if not them…”

“Then what about me?” Chrom said. “I _am_ qualified to officiate weddings in wartime.”

“Positively not!”

“Well, that settles that.” Chrom got to his feet, and dusted some of the stray hairs away from his arm. “Really, Frederick, trust me. You’ve done an excellent job with everyone else; they’ve told me so themselves.”

“Then they know about this,” Frederick said.

“I know Stahl and Sumia insisted on it.” Chrom let a grin play across his face as he turned back to Frederick.  “I mean, you made them feel very special. And that’s a real talent of yours. You always know just what to say to show your appreciation.”

“Like when I tell you not to tear the sleeves off your clothing?”

“You’re just showing you care, that’s all. I know that side of you well.”

He took a step closer to Frederick, and before he could say another word he had his bare arm around Frederick’s shoulder, and was rubbing him lightly on the back. Frederick tried to keep himself focused on Chrom’s face, but he was finding it difficult to keep a straight expression himself.

“Chrom,” he said, and then hesitated for a moment. “Do you _really_ want to do this now?”

“I do,” Chrom said with a smile.

He shivered at those two words, knowing what they meant. He couldn’t possibly have the time to form the words to express what he felt, and even if he did he didn’t know how foolish Chrom would think of him for being so _unlike_ himself.  But he couldn’t think about the silence for long before Chrom pulled himself in with another arm around Frederick’s waist and planted a kiss directly on his lips.

It hadn’t been the first time they’d kissed, and it wouldn’t be the last by any means – but like every kiss before it’d filled Frederick’s breast with the heat of a million fires. And so he couldn’t help but kiss him back, and lose himself in the feeling, filling his heart and pushing any lingering doubt about his decision  to the edges of his mind. He felt he’d been gone for an eternity when they finally came up for breath, and even then he could still see the signs of their affection in the disarray of Chrom’s hair and the flush on his cheeks.

“You look amazing,” Chrom said. “I like the tie.”

“It took me twenty minutes to pick it out,” Frederick said.

“Of course it did.” He grinned, and planted another peck on Frederick’s lips before he pulled away from his embrace. “Well, I shouldn’t stay much longer. It isn’t good luck to be with you before the wedding.”

“I would say it’s a bit too late for that,” Frederick said.

“Well…” Chrom put a finger to his chin, looking delightfully confused. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Frederick laughed. “Well…yes. I suppose it is. See you at the dais. And not a moment sooner.”

“Not a moment sooner.” The love of Frederick’s life waved goodbye, and then turned and disappeared from the room with a flutter of his cape.

===

An hour later, at sunset, Frederick found himself in an all too familiar position.

He stood in the center of the dais, which itself stood in the center of a ring of stone benches that were only half-filled. The dozen or so Shepherds were gathered in the north quadrant of the ring, while only a few strangers stood on the periphery. They were curious townsfolk, mostly, likely wondering why this strange group of wandering Ylisseans had wanted so urgently to use their wedding dais.

In their formal wear he could hardly recognize his own comrades. Vaike was wearing a shirt, Donnel’s pot was freshly polished, and there wasn’t a suit of plate armor to be seen. But as much as he tried not to stare too much, one way or another he could tell that he was the center of attention, whether the Shepherds were staring intently in his direction or only stealing glances in the middle of their conversations. Was it only because he was in the center? Or was it because what he was doing was so strange? Marrying a man, for one, and _marrying_ himself, for another?

The couples sat in the front row, alternately looking at him and whispering to each other.  Stahl and Sumia had their hands cupped over their faces, whispering and glancing his way; he could only guess at what they were saying, but like as not it was some kind of lovers’ secret, the kind they were all too fond of sharing when others were in earshot. Miriel and Lon’qu were quite the opposite – they sat stock-still and looked straight ahead, but their hands were folded over each other, which was their most intimate form of public physical affection. And Sully and Virion… well, just a moment ago they’d been all over each other, but now Sully was telling Virion off for leaving his bow back at camp when they could _honestly_ expect a Risen ambush at any time. (And to be fair he didn’t blame her in the slightest – his own axe was behind the dais.)

Next to them sat Robin, who, while single, had been given the seat of honor by Chrom – and seemed rather ill-suited to it given how they hadn’t even gotten themselves a formal garment for the occasion. Behind them, Ladies Lissa and Maribelle sat close together, their heads touching, and their hands held tensely in their laps. If Frederick had truly had his way, then the two noble ladies, particularly the Ylissean _princess_ , would not be sitting behind any manner of _commoner_. But if it was their decision, then it wasn’t his place to say anything about it.

He saw a flutter at the corner of his vision just then, and turned to find Robin giving him a small wave. He couldn’t respond without breaking his own concentration, but he hoped a stern look was enough of an answer for them. As much as Chrom liked this strange, amnesiac tactician, Frederick still found them difficult to trust…

But he didn’t get to think much more about Robin before the wedding horns sounded. He tried hard not to look like his heart was dropping into his gullet, as it absolutely was, and instead directed his attention to the west end of the dais.

Chrom had appeared at the very back of the benches, and he was looking positively _radiant._ The sun was just setting behind him, as it did at all country weddings, and the white-gold cloth of his garment caught the light that filled the sky, to the point where Frederick could hardly tell where Chrom ended and the sun began.

He stood there for several seconds, looking left, and then right, and then directly at Frederick, raising an eyebrow. There were a few _ooh_ s and _ahh_ s from the gathered peasant crowd, and a loud victory whoop or two from Donnel and Vaike, but most of the other Shepherds just looked confused. Maribelle was wrinkling her nose and looking at Lissa with worry, while Sully was visibly snorting into her hand…

What would have happened at any _normal_ wedding was that the second partner would have appeared at the east end of the benches at the same time, at which point they would walk through the assembled crowd and meet in the middle of the dais, presenting themselves as a bonded pair for the first time. But he’d been so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t given a single thought to the awkwardness he’d have to endure, or that he’d create for Chrom by interrupting the ritual…

But Chrom didn’t seem to be breaking a sweat. Curious as he looked, he was patiently watching Frederick, waiting for him to make a move, even as his boots tapped against the stone. _I don’t know what you think you’re doing,_ Frederick thought, _I thought this was what you wanted._

But then something inside him bristled at his thoughts, and he pushed them entirely out of his mind. He’d never let his lord down and he wasn’t about to do it now. 

He turned on his heels and ran up to the east end of the stone benches.

He heard a swell of snickering behind him, but he did his level best not to notice. Chrom had made it halfway to the dais by the time he turned back, but his strides were slow and graceful, giving Frederick plenty of time to catch up. And catch up he did, as he took off at a march back down the aisle.

Now that he was in the familiar formation he felt less like an official and more like a _groom,_ even if he was keeping up the same pace he used to march into battle. He saw the confidence return to Chrom’s stride as they fell into step with each other, and as he grew closer he seemed to grow even more astonishing. 

They met in the middle a few seconds off from each other, and though he couldn’t let himself look up he could hear even more laughter. He focused instead on Chrom, and the feeling of Chrom’s hands against his skin as he took them.  

“My lord,” he said, his tone sour. “I-”

“See?” Chrom said. “You did great.”

“But-”

“Just do what you always do.” He smiled, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Trust me.”

 _Trust you._ Frederick let the words fall into his chest and mix with the rest of his resolve. He cast his eyes down, gave a nod, and then opened them again, a burning determination filling his chest.

He took two steps forward, placing himself in the customary position of the officiator.  He straightened his tie, cleared his throat, and did his best to look as though he were doing nothing but another duty.

“My friends,” he said, letting his voice echo in the summer air. “My countrymen. My guests. This pair before us-”

He stole a glance at the empty space where the groom should have been, and without changing expression, sidestepped his way into it and took Chrom’s hand. “This pair before us stands in front of you with the intention of offering themselves to each other.”

He stepped back into the officiator’s position, letting Chrom go again as he went. He could see the confusion and wonder on most of his comrades’ faces, and he could just hear their whispers to each other - “What’s Frederick doing?” from Stahl, and “What is this display of ridiculousness? Would it not be easier to get a third party?” from Maribelle. Donnel was doing his level best not to laugh, and Vaike was openly laughing in the back.

He decided to ignore them – if their humors were what Chrom wanted, then their humors would have to exhaust themselves. “They have gathered in the midst of nature in order to give themselves to the world. They have exchanged-” He stepped back into the groom’s position, and raised his hand in the air at the same time as Chrom did – “They have exchanged rings in the hope of ensuring their love remains as strong as stone.”

He took a deep breath, and stepped back again, raising another snicker from Vaike – but only briefly, before he began the next line. “And they are gathered in a time of war in order to give of their love to the peace and stability of Ylisse. Their valiant deeds will live on for generations as a testament to the preservation of that peace. Their children will grow old in a world nurtured by their love and preserved by their strength-”

A loud wolf-whistle cut him off, and the front section erupted in snickers as Vaike tried his best to look innocent – or to look guilty, as the circumstances were.

“ _Vaike_ ,” Maribelle said sternly, without looking back, “If you don’t mind not _harassing_ the rest of us!”

“Hey, it’s a wedding!” Vaike shouted, holding his hands in the air. “What’s wrong with wishing ‘em luck?”

“ _And their descendants will make the land all the richer_ ,” Frederick said, cutting them off and cutting much of the laughter altogether. He knew how this must look, but he wasn’t about to have his day descend into petty bickering. “And for this I ask the blessing of the people and the gods on them.”

There was a nod from the crowd, as was customary at that point in time. Only Maribelle seemed thoroughly distracted. “I’ll never get used to that kind of barbarism,” he heard her say to Lissa. “But we’ll have _none of that_ at our wedding, will we?”

Maribelle raised her voice loud enough for Frederick to hear, and punctuated it with a glance in his direction. Lissa gave Frederick a shy, but entirely accordant smile, and he gave them the smallest of nods before he stepped back in the groom’s position.

“I promise to uphold these words and these promises,” he said, taking Chrom’s hands.

“And as do I, in the name of our love.” Chrom beamed up at Frederick, and while Frederick couldn’t for the life of him understand why he was reveling in this foolishness, he appreciated that he’d considered his feelings in the face of it.

“Very well,” he said, going off script just briefly before he let go and stepped confidently back into the officiator’s position. “Do the gods accept our offer?” he said. “If not, then we ask you to give us a sign.”

There was a pause, and as was customary Frederick kept a watch for omens. His knowledge of fortunes only went about as far as this part of the ceremony, but he kept a careful watch for a broken branch, an animal’s corpse, or any other signs of destruction or catastrophe. Upon finding nothing of interest he looked back at Chrom, who stood with his eyes closed, confident that the officiator could see all he needed to know. But all he could tell was that he’d learned all he needed to know about the omens he could see. Namely, that they weren’t there at all.

…and neither was Robin. Frederick took a double-take at the empty seat, and then looked up and around the aisles to find them nowhere in sight. He hadn’t even seen them leave, and no one seemed to have made a ruckus around their going. Even though he didn’t think Robin was the type to just leave, especially not in the most sacred part of the ceremony…

Could they have seen something he hadn’t, and run off to investigate? No… they couldn’t worry themselves with that. If there WAS a danger at hand, he could at least trust Robin to interrupt the wedding and inform him. And he could trust his comrades to keep them in line if they decided to betray the rest of them.

If he hadn’t seen any omens then perhaps he wasn’t meant to find any danger in them. Slowly he straightened and nodded his head, provoking a sigh of relief from the assembled crowd. He tried to keep one eye on the empty seat, but even then he still stepped into position in front of Chrom, and took his hands again.

“And to you,” he said, “Do the people assembled to see our entry into life as one accept our offer to live among you together?”

====

Robin had seen the cloaked stranger at the top of the opposite end of the benches, just as they’d been about to close their eyes. The glint of his mask was only just barely visible under his hood, but as soon as they recognized the shape and design they were on their feet and moving up the rows, with nothing but a mumbled excuse. Did the others simply not see him, or had they mistaken him for another traveler? Robin hadn’t wanted to take the time to guess about it.

He didn’t react to Robin’s movement, but by the time they reached the top of their row he seemed to move away of his own accord, cutting a brisk path through the assembled townsfolk. In their panic they broke into a run, making their way down the path the man had already created.

The man turned to look back at them when they were within a hundred yards, right at the end of the wedding dais. Upon seeing their face he turned immediately back – but Robin had already seen enough. “Marth,” they said.

The man froze, but didn’t turn back again. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else-”

“I haven’t,” Robin said. “I would know your face anywhere. What little I can see of it.”

They half-expected Marth to turn and strike, and they already had a spell ready just in case – but instead he removed his hood, and turned fully to face them. His mask was exactly as Robin remembered it – ornately carved, and stylized in the shape of a butterfly. “Aren’t you going to alert your lord?”

Robin froze, for just a second, and then cast a glance down at their lord, who was proceeding with his ceremony without a care for anyone beyond his betrothed.  “I am more than capable of handling you,” they said.

“Spare me your concerns,” Marth said. “I have no intention but to watch the wedding and be gone.”

Robin furrowed their brow. Behind the mask his face was unreadable, and there was no way to tell if he was telling the truth. “Is… is that really all?”

“Is that so strange?” Marth said.

“Well…I can’t say I trust you,” Robin said. “You always seem to appear when danger is at hand.”

Marth didn’t seem to have a response ready for that. He looked away again, and cast his glance toward the central dais. His hand shifted under his cloak, right at the spot where his mysterious copy of the royal Falchion might be sheathed.

“It’s not...” He paused, apparently reconsidering his words. “It was just a curiosity. That’s all.”

“A curiosity?” Robin tensed. “Do you mean… the break in ceremonial tradition?”

They shook their head. “No, but that IS a curiosity, now that you mention it.”

Robin tensed. “Then do you mean the marriage of two men?”

“What – no, not in the least!” Marth recoiled, looking distressed. “It is not my place to speak ill of – it’s something I am not all that familiar with, I admit-”

“I wasn’t saying that you were speaking ill…” Robin narrowed their brow. “Is it something they don’t do where you’re from?”

Marth appeared to consider the statement for some time before he responded. “In my youth, I never thought so. But…”

“But?”

“But it might just put the tale of my own life into perspective.”

Robin couldn’t quite parse what he was saying at first – but within seconds, it was clear. “Your…?”

“My father always told me I had no mother, and that I need not worry about my origins,” Marth said. “I believe I was meant to assume she was dead, but I never did learn more about her, not even in passing. And my father… though I never knew the man in question, he always grieving over the loss of…” He tensed. “Never mind.”

As Robin watched, he turned to face the wedding dais again. The ceremonial events were almost over; the only thing that remained were the final vows. Usually the couple joined hands for this portion, but Frederick was back in the officiator’s position, holding only one of Chrom’s hands and casting furtive glances back and forth at him. “Chrom,” he said, visibly fidgeting, “do you take Frederick to be your lawful wedded husband?”

As he stepped back into the groom’s place, pulling Chrom’s hands forward with determination, Marth sighed, and shook his head slightly. “They seem so happy,” he said, with a pang of what seemed like sadness in his voice. “And so affectionate. It’s…strange, to see the Lord Chrom like this.”

“Not so much, I think,” Robin said. “Not once you get to know him.” If they hadn’t been in the presence of this man, they might have smiled, but… no. They couldn’t afford to be too familiar, not when they were still fully prepared to come to blows with him.

When Marth didn’t reply for some seconds, they turned their attention back to the dais. He’d entirely missed Chrom’s affirmation, but he must have given it, because Frederick let his right hand go and stepped back into the officiator’s position. “Frederick,” he said, “do you take Frederick to be your lawful wedded husband?”

This time he stepped back with confidence, and replaced his stern expression with a smile. “I do,” he said loud enough to be heard for miles around. The stone benches erupted in cheers, as was customary, and several of the assembled Shepherds stood, clapping and wolf-whistling. “SMOOCH ‘EM!” Robin could hear Vaike yelling from the back.

An odd, keening sound caught Robin off guard – Marth was _giggling_ , or someone was giggling in Marth’s general direction and Robin had just misjudged the source. It wasn’t like they could tell from behind the mask, in any case. They still couldn’t give any rhyme or reason to his attachment to the event, but…

He turned, suddenly, and appeared to look Robin directly in the eye. “I shouldn’t be seen at the festivities,” he said. “If… if I could escape unseen-”

“Smooch ‘em!” Vaike yelled again, interrupting the moment. “Smooch his face, Chrom!”

Marth paused. “If I could escape unseen, I hope you understand.”

Robin considered this for a long time. It wasn’t like Marth was an enemy – he was just an unknown force. But even if they tried to control him… they weren’t sure if they could, or even if they needed to. They nodded, and let their removal from Marth’s presence give him their answer for them.

A wave of snickering had rolled through the assembled crowd as they’d spoken, especially the group of peasant girls that had gathered a few rows behind Vaike. And just as Robin was wondering what was taking the two of them so long to get on with it, a smirk played its way across Chrom’s face, and the two grabbed hold of each other, kissing like it was the end of the world.

====

The festivities lasted long into the night, and Frederick found after the fact that for the first time in his life he only had scattered memories of what had happened. But it wasn’t as though he’d had too much to drink – he’d just hadn’t the thought or the nerves to spare to try and form new memories. And in any case, Vaike and Virion had wasted much of the champagne bottles when they’d popped them over the assembled crowd. And while he always appreciated a _good_ ale, Frederick wasn’t about to take his chances on country beer.

But country dancing – country _dancing_ he could get into. After a few too many slow numbers the band had erupted into some kind of wild jig, and at first the sudden throng of dancers had overwhelmed him. But then Chrom had pulled him back into his arms and guided him through his best imitation of the dance, which involved a lot of clapping and bouncing and throwing people over shoulders and putting them back down again.

Frederick found this out the hard way when Chrom suddenly grabbed him around the waist, dipped him, and threw him up in the air. His first thought was that he hardly knew his lord was so strong; his second was that of course he was that strong, he was the prince of Ylisse; and his third thought was that he was _in midair_ and he was _at his own wedding_ and he was in _full view of his fellows_.

But…somehow, after the spectacle of the wedding, there was very little his fellows could do to make him feel like a fool. And in fact, they weren’t. They almost seemed…to be adding to the fun. Donnel was alternately clapping to the rhythm of the dance and patting a nearby goat – a goat that Frederick was about to get as a wedding present if his assessment of countryfolk customs was accurate. Stahl and Sully were whooping and singing along to whatever the lyrics were, swinging tankards of beer in their hands in time with their inconsistent rhythm. Miriel and Lon’qu were still at the tables, of course, but they were both tapping their feet in time.

He took this all in as he fell, as if his adrenaline had heightened his senses the way it did in battle, and then Chrom caught him again and a cheer rose up and he was back on his feet. “Well?” Chrom said, as they entered the next phase of the song. “Surprised?”

“Extremely,” Frederick said. “Just don’t expect me to be throwing you around.”

“No need to worry about that.” Chrom planted a kiss on Frederick’s lips, and then proceeded back into the less physically extreme parts of the dance.

But by then the song was over, and as the song changed so did the dance. And this dance, while it involved less people-throwing, seemed to involve a lot more changing of partners. All the guests arranged themselves in a line, and clapped somewhat faster as they met in the middle. Only Maribelle and Lissa were left out of the line – Maribelle had ignored the harsh rhythms entirely and had chosen instead to lead Lissa around the grass in a kind of gentle gavotte, which she appeared to be conducting entirely in her own head.

First Frederick did a turn with Chrom, then a turn with Sumia, then another turn with Chrom, then a turn with a terrified-looking peasant youth, then a turn with an old man who was drunker than anyone Frederick had ever met. Then it was back to Chrom again, and it seemed a pity to let him go again; but it was a part of the dance and he had to be dignified for at least a part of his evening. And then, the next partner was –

“Robin!” he exclaimed, upon seeing them.

“Frederick!” they said, pulling a smile just a few too many seconds too late. He could’ve pinpointed a thousand suspicious things about their appearance; they were extraordinarily exhausted, their hair was greatly askew, and despite the simplicity of the dance it looked more like they were walking their way through it.

“Where have you been?” Frederick said. “I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Oh, I…” For a second they looked very agitated, but then they composed themselves. “You must have seen me leave. I apologize, and at such an important time…”

“Don’t worry,” Frederick said. “I’m sure it was important.”

“It was,” Robin said with conviction. The verse was halfway through, and the turn was almost up.

“Then what was going on?” Frederick said, narrowing his brow. “Is it something Chrom and I should know?”

“Oh, well –” Robin’s eyes went wide, and they seemed to be thinking intently. “No, not at all, I just – you know, when you gotta go-”

Frederick realized then what a fool he’d been, once again. “Never mind,” he said quickly.

“And then I got lost in conversation with Kellam,” Robin continued, just as quickly. “And by the end, well, there was no point in getting back to my seat…”

“Kellam?” Frederick furrowed his brow. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him at all either…”

“Oh, he’s there,” Robin said. “Listen…”

Robin stopped, suddenly, right in the middle of the dance. Their eyes went wide, as if they’d been surprised by something. “You know,” they said, “Come to think of it… I’m really, REALLY thirsty. Super thirsty.”

“Hm?” Frederick said. “But, the dance-”

“It was a lovely wedding, Frederick,” Robin said. “Really… really lovely. I can only hope mine is just as amazing.” They backed away, bowing profusely, and headed in the general direction of the punch bowl.

It was not the strangest thing Frederick had seen that night, and come to think of it it wasn’t even the strangest behavior he’d seen from Robin. But he couldn’t dwell on it for long, not before Chrom was back in his arms, and the dance had to go on its way.

Chrom. Chrom, his husband. Chrom, his partner. Chrom, his lord. With those words in his head he could almost forget that they were in the middle of a war. That the celebration was in a nowhere town instead of the hallowed halls of Ylisse. That any day one or the other of them could be dead, or dying, or worse…

He couldn’t think of any of that. Not here. Not now.

“I love you,” he said, instead, to clear his mind.

“I love you,” Chrom said in return, and his smile did the work of easing Frederick’s nerves.

===

By the time Robin reached the woods, Marth had almost gotten out of sight. He must’ve seen that they’d seen him, or else he wouldn’t be running.

He’d been at the edge of the dance, approaching slowly, coming closer and closer to Chrom, extending his hand toward his shoulder… and while his hood had been raised, the sliver of skin that Robin could see had made it clear he hadn’t worn his mask. Of course, his face had been impossible to see, but that was still enough for him to panic.  

“Hey!” they shouted, running and attempting to dodge anything that might trip them up. “HEY! What were you doing?”

“Leave me!” Marth shouted, his voice breaking. “Leave me be!”

“You were about to grab Chrom!” they shouted back. “What were you planning?!”

“I-” For a moment he appeared to slow – but not nearly enough for Robin to catch up to him. “No. I’ve ruined everything-!”

“Ruined everything…?” They repeated his words under their breath. “What are you-”

“Be careful, Robin,” Marth said, turning back for just a moment, his mask glittering in the moonlight. “You, especially. Be very, _very_ careful.”

“Careful…?” Robin hesitated for only a second before their eyes went wide. “WAIT!”

It was no use. No matter how far they ran, Marth had taken the opportunity of their confusion to bolt and disappear. And in the growing darkness, there was no way Robin would be able to find their way back to the town alone if they went any further into the woods.

They stood dumb for a second, cursing their own slowness, and listening to the soft sound of an owl hooting in the woods. They’d have to report this now, for sure. No more need to give him mercy that he didn’t deserve. If he wasn’t going to disclose his motives, then there was no use in assuming they were innocent…

But not now. They’d wait until morning – the purported descendant of the Hero-King was well enough gone either way. And if Marth were to show a more violent side before then…  well, one way or another, he’d be close enough at hand to stop.

===

Lucina ran as fast as her legs could carry her, checking for pursuers at every turn. And even if she couldn’t see them, she felt as though they might be on her tail at any time, ready to capture or expose her, or end her mission before it had really begun.

The metal across her face was slick with sweat, but she would never risk removing it again, not even while she slept. She’d done a fool, fool thing. She knew that and she cursed herself for it. But in the heat of the moment, seeing her fathers when they were at their happiest…

No. She couldn’t bring herself to regret it. If she hadn’t done it, she would have been haunted with regret. But what she regretted was being caught. And by _them_ , of all people. Could they be trusted, even now? She didn’t know and she couldn’t risk finding out.

Especially not now. Especially not when she had precious little time before Emmeryn’s fated death. If she could stop that from happening, then hopefully she could live to be able to greet her fathers and her aunt – and when she did, she’d want to do it in a better and brighter place and time, the very same one she’d create for them.  


End file.
